August 24, 1808.

* * * It was midnight; the moon rose dim.  The ship, whose shadow sailed along beside it, like a monster, upon the illuminated Rhine, cast a dazzling light upon the woody meadow of Ingelheim along which it was moving.  The moon appeared behind the meadow, mild and modest, and gradually wrapped itself in a thin cloud of mist as in a veil.  Whenever we contemplate nature in calm meditation, it always lays hold of our heartstrings.  What could have turned my senses more fervently to God, what could have more easily freed me from the trivial things that oppress me?  I am not ashamed to confess to thee that at that moment thy image flamed up impetuously in my soul.  It is true:  Thy radiance pierces me as the sun pours into the crystal of the grape and, like the sun, thou dost ripen me with ever increasing fire and ever increasing purity. * * *

February 23, 1809.

If thy imagination is supple enough to accompany me into all the recesses of ruined walls, over mountains and chasms, then I shall venture farther and introduce thee to the recesses of my heart.

I beg thee, therefore, to climb up here, still higher, up three flights to my room; sit on the blue stool by the green table opposite me.  I merely want to gaze at thee—­and, Goethe—­does thy imagination still follow me?—­then thou must discover the most constant love in my eyes, and must draw me lovingly into thy arms, and say, “Such a faithful child is given me as a reward, as amends, for much!  This child is dear to me, ’tis a treasure, a precious jewel that I do not wish to lose.”  Dost thou understand?  And thou must kiss me, for that is what my imagination bestows on thine!

I shall lead thee still farther!  Step softly into the chamber of my heart-here we are in the vestibule—­utter stillness—­no Humboldt—­no architect—­no barking dog.  Thou art not a stranger; go up and knock; it will be alone and call to thee “Come in!” Thou wilt find it on a cool, quiet couch, and a friendly light will greet thee.  All will be peace and order, and thou wilt be welcome!  What is that?  Heavens!  See the flames shooting up over him!  Whence this conflagration?  Who can save here?  Poor heart!  Poor, suffering heart!  What can reason accomplish here?  It knows everything better and yet can not help; its arms drop helpless by its side. * * *

Good night, good night until tomorrow!  Everything is quiet and all in the house are asleep dreaming of the things they desire when awake; but I alone am awake with thee.  Outside, on the street, all is still.  I should like to be assured that at this moment no soul besides mine is thinking of thee, that no other heart gives a throb for thee, and that I alone in the wide world am sitting at thy feet, my heart beating with full strokes.  And while all are asleep I am awake in order to press thy knee to my breast—­and thou?—­the world need not know that thou lovest me!

October 23, 1809.